


Simoun False Starts

by Niconsernetta



Series: Fragments and False Starts [1]
Category: Simoun (Anime)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niconsernetta/pseuds/Niconsernetta
Summary: A series of Simoun one-shots and false starts that have been sitting on my computer since like 2014. I'm not sorry, I just hate typing up what I've written and am hyper critical of my own work.





	1. Chapter 1

Watching the boys scurrying around inside the hanger as the storm rolled closer across the highlands was a strangely cathartic experience. The storm season would keep them relatively safe from the advances of Argentum while giving the soldiers garrisoned here a chance to take little bites out of the slowly advancing line. Following the stormy fall season was the closing of the year and with it the brutally cold winters that stole away the very young and very old in their sleep and the strong as they struggles to provide for their families.

Winter in Plumbum killed indiscriminately and the men of the tropical archipelago were uniquely unsuited to spend any time in the harsh highlands. In summer the land was plagued with relentless heat, in winter the land was blanketed in a bone shattering cold, the only times of year that were remotely comfortable for foreign habitation was spring and autumn but even then the vicious weather could take a turn for the worse. As it were they had survived over a hundred days without rain and three dust storms, the natives had assured them all that the winter would be particularly cruel this year.

But Valif's boys had completed the task of dry docking the reconstructed Arcus Niger, revived ten years ago when the peace between Argentum and the seemingly unshakable alliance between Plumbum and the Theocracy had shattered for the third time since the ceasefire over twenty years ago. All that was left was shuttling the simile of the Niger's rear guard into their births and close the doors for the night. At the end of the runway the storm crawled inexorably towards them, the seemingly unhurried nature of its progress making it all the more terrible.

A war ship dry docking at the central temple in Plumbum was an ominous sign, priestesses hadn't been required to fight in years but that didn't meant that they couldn't yank everyone else not directly associated with the church into the conflict. That would mean possibly saying goodbye to her mechanic forever, lives were wasted so senselessly in war and seeing that light extinguished forever would likely drive her into the depths of despair. The future that she had imagined together with him would end violently in an explosion or worse, to have to look your killer in the eye - these were the things that nightmares were made of.

He was looking, making the sign of fealty to the faith and flashing her the winning smile that he seemed to have reserved just for the Simoun Sibyllae. But he was the kind of man who could find a smile for everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Kalle, mom.” He beamed down at her, “Kaelf is kind of hard to say and honestly I’m thinking of dropping the ‘f’ entirely. I mean seriously, I understand tradition but I work with a guy named Vanesf after about a week we all gave up and just started calling him Van.”

“Come on, mom. It’s not like you don’t already get our names wrong, you had to run down the entire list when we were younger.” Hurriedly he offered the oil rag in his back pocket to his mother to dry her face with; it was a tattered thing that had seen far too many washings for its own good but it had been a gift from his father when he had first started showing interest in engineering and mechanical construction and served as a good luck charm for years.

Gratefully taken the token she wiped her eyes and took in the sight of her son, her _son_ , for the first time in two years. He had been forced to the Spring beneath the Temple before his seventeenth birthday by the unending wars that plagued the world and even worse he hadn’t been allowed to visit his family before being shipped off to the Plumbum Highlands to ensure that the Simoun  were in the proper condition to fight.

It had taken far longer than she had first anticipated for him to grow into the height promised by the size of his foot, even as a maiden he had had unusually large feet for someone his size, and now stood tall enough to look his father in the eye levelly. Thinner in the shoulders and across the chest he had taken more after his maternal grandfather in build but the line of his jaw was just as proud as his father’s if somehow gentler in its curve.

In the strong highland sun he had tanned darker than any of his siblings, darker than his father, and his muscles had hardened into bands of steel under heavy pressure. But the subtle strands of grey that he had been born with had become dominant and what had once been a thick black mane of hair had become a silver crown shot with darker charcoal, bleached by the sun and winds.

He looked down at her with her own eyes and the tears began again when she noted that his beard had begun to grow in, a dark shadow on his chin and neck. If he was capable of growing a beard he was all but at the end of his metamorphosis, faster than some but slower than others, he had a touch more weight to put on and perhaps another three or four inches to grow to completely fill out the promise of his shoulders. But he would retain most of his youthful fairness, capable presenting physically as a boyishly handsome woman or pretty boy if he shaved regularly.

She gently lay her palm against his cheek, feeling the rough bristles of his scruff. “Kaelf…” the name was strange in her mouth even though she had been certain that he would more than likely choose this for himself.

“Kalle, mom.” He beamed down at her, “Kaelf is kind of hard to say and honestly I’m thinking of dropping the ‘f’ entirely. I mean seriously, I understand tradition but I work with a guy named Vanesf after about a week we all gave up and just started calling him Van.”

The humorous little anecdote got a tear filled chuckle from his mother. “Of course, Kalle…”

Taking his hand, so large compared to her own, so large compared to the tiny hand she had clutched as she first showed her second born around the Messis for the first time. And Kalle knew, the sensitive soul he was always knew when you needed that little bit more. Squeezing her hand in his own he allowed himself to be pulled into his childhood home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fragment that has been sitting in my computer for.... lets just say years. I don't think it'll go anywhere but if it generates interest more power to it. I'm not sure how to really tag it but if someone wants this to go somewhere I can outline something short and post it.


End file.
